Page 8 of Three Dark Kings and the Gilded Serpent

Fifty paces away across the snowy field, Stellen has collapsed to his knees, a dagger in his heart, a gash in his side, his breathing ragged and his heartbeats slowing.

Lilis, the woman we came to rescue, looms over him, her left arm held aloft, extended away from me, after she stabbed Stellen’s side.

Her jubilant cry hums in the air, joining the euphoric howls of the Northerners. They are shapeshifters, some of them in their fae forms while others have shifted into the shape of wolves.

Lilis has spilled Stellen’s blood and invoked the Winter Strife, a challenge for his throne.

He won’t live long enough to fight back.

We’re located outside a compound that once belonged to Stellen’s bitter rival, Iker Silversten, a Frost Fae who now hangs, along with his adult children, from the top of the wall. We didn’t kill them. The Northerners did.

I’m already running, a deep fury fueling my legs, giving me speed as I leap across the bodies of the Northerners killed in our battle moments ago.

The moment I move, the shapeshifters at my back give chase, but Nara, Stellen’s loyal white wolf, leaps into action behind me, her mournful howls at Stellen’s injuries becoming threatening snarls as she storms into the Northerners’ path.

I can’t risk looking back. I trust Nara to protect me.

As I run, I reach for the flapping pieces of my black training suit, torn during the fight, peeling the tattered pieces away to reveal the Lethian armor I’m wearing concealed beneath the suit.

This armor once belonged to the last Lethian queen and is made up of more Lethian silver than was thought to still exist in our world. Each thread was sung into being using the Lethian power over song.

The threads are bonded with me. Controlling them is now as easy as breathing.

Stellen was right to convince me to take off this armor before I spent a week in combat training with Lilis.

He was right to have her train me, instead of training me himself.

Because now I know how she fights.

Ahead of me, her left hand swings again, this time as she drives her dagger toward Stellen’s throat.

With a single swipe, she will cut through his neck and end him, and I’m still too far away.

Too far!

I push myself to move faster, straining to breach the distance before she can strike the final blow.

Stellen’s shoulders have slumped where he kneels, his head tipped back to see her.

Even as he sways on the verge of collapse, he doesn’t take his eyes off her. His long, white hair falls as far as the dagger in his chest and his lips set into a resigned line.

I wait for him to use his Voice to stop her. Will him to use his Voice, even if it hurts me in the process. I would take that pain if it means he lives.

He doesn’t make a sound.

He doesn’t make a move.

His stillness and his silence collapse my world.

Why won’t he fight back?

If it weren’t for his heartbeats, I would lose control of my fear and fury. Those shuddering beats keep me focused.

Beats I can hear with a power I shouldn’t have: Stellen’s power.

The cursed Dragonstone Blade is embedded on the inside of my right arm, its hilt in the palm of my hand and its tip pointing to the crease inside my elbow. The ivory ribbon in which the blade was once wrapped has also become like a tattoo on the surface of my skin.

But it’s the black runes now meandering along the surface of the ribbon that have formed a blood bind from which I can’t escape.